not PERFECT is good
by Nayuki-Bunny
Summary: It was always quiet in her world. Quiet like the dawn in her eyes.
1. H o m e

**This is my first Melancholy fic centered around my favorite character, Yuki Nagato. Each of the chapters takes place sometime during the first season but not necessarily in chronological order. I redited some stuff in here by the way, so having cleared that up, continue reading!**

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Home (n)_

_1. a place where one's dwelling affections lie_

_2. a building in which one resides_

_3. a person's native country _

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Home.

The word holds no personal meaning to her. She does not have a home, the large and empty apartment she currently inhabits merely serving as a means of temporary placement.

This does not trouble her for she does not feel the need for one. That is a fact, in all practicality. She does not doubt fact because that is irrational, and she is not irrational. Quite simply, she had never felt the need for anything because she had not been created to need anything. Wanting and needing was for selfish human desires.

She turns another page, quickly scanning the words, but not comprehending their meaning.

Then where does she belong?

She lifts her eyes from the book, mind and gaze unfocused, but quickly brushes these troublesome questions away. It is illogical and unwise to succumb to such unnecessary and wanton thoughts. She does not need unnecessary and wanton thoughts clouding her judgement; they will only deter her from her assignment.

She stares vacantly at the printed paper and thinks that it is only reasonable to assume the answer is her place of origin.

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A tall white room with tall white pillars. She can barely see that, let alone anything, in the dim light. Vision adjusting, she becomes aware of faint clicking and tapping noises resonating around her and throughout the room, echoing loudly.

[Location is the first query that springs into her lucid subconscious.]

_A flicker of light casts long shadows against the sloped dome of the ceiling. She slowly turns her head toward the source, blinking at the sudden brightness. _

_Rays of bluish-white light emit weak glows from several large screens mounted on the walls. Thousands of smaller windows open and close within the monitors, data flowing freely in the scrolling white commands punctuated by steady beeps. She can hear the whir and hum of the machines at work among the clickings and tappings, briefly wondering what exactly they were doing._

_Her line of vision follows cables, long, winding cables both thick and thin, running from the humming mainframe up onto the table she lays on, and into…_

_She stares blankly. _

[Later, it was easy to assume that she had been created.]

_A flat, toneless voice gives orders. Murmurs also devoid of emotion seem to answer around her head in varying garbled responses. She finds that, after redirecting her auditory sensors, she can understand._

_Defective, they say, quickly and efficiently. Need more time. Reprogram._

_There is no time, is the quick and efficient reply._

_Other than the comprehension of the literal definitions of their words, this all means nothing to her. Her mental processes do not compute the situation nor the identities of the conversers. Her purpose here is unclear as well._

_Defective. Reprogram, they repeat_

[The second query regards herself.]

_Humanoid Interface, they intone._

_Failure. There is no time._

_She turns her head to the right, having given up attempting to fathom the scenario. She finds another figure lying beside her and stares. It lays on a separate table from hers with a white sheet draped over it. This hides its face and body from sight, but leaves the severed cables dangled from under it visible. There is also an unmoving white hand. _

_Her skin tingles._

_She can discern disembodied shadows passing over and around the still body, murmuring incessantly all the while._

_Failure. Need more time. New Humanoid Interface…_

_There is no time, one repeats rather brusquely. The flat voice continues on, but she does not hear, strangely mesmerized by the shrouded figure. _

[Her mental processes had deduced failure to have a negative connotation: who was the failure?]

_There is a sudden unpleasant sensation in her form and she looks away, down at herself. Something a deep color (red, her mind supplies) soaks her bare skin in a thin coat and pools on the table's surface, quietly dripping off the sides in stray rivulets. _

_She blinks._

_Her visual feed confirms that her body is split open from her chest to her navel, although no physical receptors seem to register any resulting sensation. The winding cables from the various units feed into her, nestling something beating steadily and other things lying still. This all is blurred by the data that continuously pours into her, a fuzzy stream of shifting mass. She watches in dumb fascination. _

[I am…]

_Then a white-hot feeling unlike any other sears through her head as something bleeps loudly in the background. It intensifies painfully with each second in tandem to the bleeping until she is sure it will-Her mouth snaps opens._

_The flat voice speaks over her shrill screams. _

_Mission statement, it says. Locate source of recent data explosion, subject Haruhi Suzumiya, and observe. Report any newfound data back to the Integrated Data Entity. Independent action is prohibited without permission._

_And then it is black._

[She wondered once and only once if she would be discarded when her purpose is fulfilled.]

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"Yo, Nagato."

The reminisce dissolves abruptly and she looks away from the book, pushing up the glinting glasses perched on her nose. Her eyes meet that of the assigned subject's key: the organic life form referenced as "Kyon."

"Aren't you going?" he asks. "Everyone's left already."

She blinks. Turning her head, she slowly surveys the clubroom. The assorted costumes are hung up, board games put away, and the computer switched off. How long had she been thinking? She returns her gaze to his.

"I did not realize the time," she says, closing the thick book with a dulled thud.

"I didn't think so," he replies, shouldering his school bag. She says nothing. He pauses uneasily and shifts his weight. "Erm, I'll walk with you."

She stares and he shuffles his feet uncomfortably. Following human conduct patterns, she calculates that his unease and offer most likely translate to wanting to discuss some matter. She nods once in reply, then goes to gather her things. He waits silently by the door until she finishes, and they leave the clubroom together.

"It's warm today," he says as they walk out onto the school grounds. "Hopefully Haruhi won't make us join another sports tournament."

She sees it unnecessary to respond. A few minutes pass without either of them saying anything more before he speaks up again. She senses that they have reached the topic of discussion.

"Ne, Nagato…" he says slowly. "Are you alright?"

"I am well," she answers, aware that this is the standard reply to such a question.

"You sure? You've been quiet today…well quieter than usual anyway, and you seem kinda out of it-"

"I am well."

She can feel him study her for a moment before sighing and looking away.

"If you say so."

Noting the conversation as terminated, she walks on in silence with him until they reach a fork in the road. He remarks that he has to take a different path from her and she merely nods. He waves and walks away, but she doesn't move, instead watching his retreating back.

She finds that she can't fully comprehend him, this cynical, according to human principles, life form who unknowingly controls the subject herself. But she feels that she doesn't need to. She knows for a fact he doesn't understand her, her alien intellect and behavior too difficult for him to decipher into synchronized data. But they still have a mutual sentiment; trust, she remembers it is called. He knows he can rely on her and she reciprocates. Plausibly, that is all there needs to be.

She moves as though to leave, but stops suddenly to face his voice calling to her.

"Nagato!" he yells. "You can tell me if something's wrong, you know. Just because you're… different doesn't mean you don't belong."

Her facial muscles remain slack as always to minimize superfluous energy loss, but her chest inexplicably lightens and her head clears. As though he can infer the subtle changes, he grins before sauntering off, a goodbye tossed over his shoulder. She stares after him a moment longer, then turns and walks to her apartment, the strange feeling lingering in her chest the whole way.

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Reviews make an author happy! (and if any of you were wondering, yes, I borrowed this fic's title from Bleach's chapter 306)


	2. E m o t i o n

**this chapter was reedited as well, hope you like the changes :)**

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Emotion (n)

_1. feelings one may__ possess_

_2. a sentiment_

_3. any sensation as a result of an action_

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Emotion.

She keeps to herself, coming across to others as stoic and introverted. This projected image doesn't disagree with her, however; it is not necessary to interact with anyone other than the subject of observation and her fellow observers. Or the human. These are her orders, hence she does not bother to establish relationships with anyone else. It is unneeded and unwise.

She was sent to the subject's location with her back-up, ordered to monitor her and report any disturbances or fluctuations in data flow while keeping a close vicinity. They were also ordered to be as inconspicuous as possible to rid any suspicions from the surrounding life forms. Rapidly and proficiently, she adapted to the new environment, gathering information on human behavior and judgment and applying it to her own personal templates fairly quickly. By the time she had finished uploading, she would appear to be a perfectly normal girl to any bystander.

She had thought so.

She genuinely believed that her mimicry of an adolescent human female was near flawless, albeit the reduction of redundant speech and movement. She always made it a point to carry out her tasks with the utmost precision and accuracy and she would've carried on without noticing if he hadn't asked her one day, when they were alone in the subject's strongest location of data manifestation (or the clubroom, as the rest of them referred to it), a question from his seat at the primitive data processor.

"Hey, Nagato," he started, pushing the chair back to look at her. "Why are you so…you know…apathetic?"

She gave him a look that to anyone else would have been expressionless, but he read as questioning. She stayed quiet a moment longer before speaking up in her customary monotone.

"Apathetic." she repeated, watching his face carefully.

"Yeah."

She looked back down to the table where the book she had been reading lay open, choosing the words to her response. From the way she could feel him scrutinizing her interestedly, she assumed that he had been meaning to ask her this for some time.

"I had believed I had acquired enough data in my personal systems to pass as a normal organic life form in this setting. Is 'apathetic' still a verifiable description?" she asked finally.

"Yeah, it is," he said, leaning back in his chair. Her cerebral programs registered his countenance pattern as amused. "You hardly speak to anyone, or laugh, or interact."

"I do not engage in interaction with you?" she clarified, her gaze meeting his again. How could there be an error in her behavioral definition files?

"Well, yes you do," he admitted. "But you need to go out there and talk to other people too. You barely speak to Asahina-san or Koizumi either. Make some friends; everyone's probably going around thinking that you're completely emotionless."

"I have no need for emotions," she answered plainly. "They lead to attachment, and attachment to anything could be a potential distraction from my mission. If I had become attached to my back-up, Ryoko Asakura, I might not have been able to terminate her as efficiently when she attempted to eliminate you. You could have been terminated instead."

He gulped at the memory, tugging at his collar. "Well, I guess that makes sense." he said. "But you don't have to be completely silent all the time."

"Silent."

"Yeah. It's not a very convincing aspect if you're trying to be 'normal.' How many people have you spoken to in your homeroom?"

Her eyes unfocused for a minute. "Replaying visual feed and checking personal memory log indicate I have conversed with the teacher and four students," she said.

"Really?" he asked. Her auditory feed caught the surprise in his tone.

"Yes. It is not considered 'normal' to remain silent when the teacher or student asks me a question. Belated responses have also been known to provoke anger or annoyance."

"So you don't have any normal conversations?"

"I refrain from conversing unless I am asked a question."

"You must have at least one person you talk to more than others-"

"I do not."

"…you talk to me."

She blinked, lips parting soundlessly. He studied her for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his hair and redirecting his attention to the window. He didn't wait for a response and she didn't give one.

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She opens the clubroom door to find she is the first to arrive. They have exams today, and she deduces that the others are still preoccupied by testing. Shutting the door behind her quietly, she puts her things on the table before walking to the bookshelf. After looking carefully, she reaches for a book she has not already finished. The thick spine reads "Kangaroo Notebook."

The exams had been simple for her, testing the most basic of skills. Her alien intelligence had allowed her to finish in a record five minutes, however, she knew from derived statistics concerning average aptitude that it would be impossible for her to hand in the test so early. She waited almost an hour longer before turning in her test and leaving the classroom. This had still attracted stares in almost a uniform proximity, but she ignored them, immediately heading to the clubroom; her visual processors interpreted the stares as more dumbfounded than hostile.

He had been correct, she thinks. It is a good percentage likely that they think her to be eccentric and perhaps even unable to function efficiently in such an environment-

…you talk to me.

Her hand pauses at the memory, fingers lingering idly against the paperback for a stray second. Then she disregards the reflection and settles at the table to read. It doesn't matter what they think as long as her identity isn't compromised. Emotion regarding desires to be accepted into social norm is foolish.

Presently, the door opens halfway and the esper mildly steps in. He tells her that he will not be able to stay, the Agency has an important meeting, and to inform the time-traveler of this. She nods once, not looking up from the print, and he thanks her, disappointment slightly coloring his voice. The time-traveler arrives soon after, flustered upon realizing it is just the two of them, and leaves almost immediately after the message is relayed. The subject of observation does not come and she is calculating how much longer to wait when the human pushes the door open and addresses her languorously.

"Yo." Her soundless stare is as good as a greeting. "New book? How is it?"

"Unique."

He explains that the subject is still asleep in the classroom and he has no intentions of waking her. She redirects her gaze to the book after giving monosyllabic responses to his questions concerning the others and, a few minutes later, the sounds of keyboard keys tapping fill the room. This goes on for some time, accompanying the gentle rustling of pages being turned, when the stillness is suddenly interrupted by his voice.

"Nagato." She looks up at him. He shifts awkwardly in his chair as she waits for him to continue, then blurts, "What would you do if someone asked you out?"

She blinks and lets his words sink in, deriving all possible definitions of the phrase. Then, for a lack of an idea as to how to respond, she can't help but check the behavioral statistics. 98% unexpected.

"Ask out? As in courtship?" she clarifies. "You wish to ask me out?"

He blushes and looks away before quickly saying, "No! It's just that- I mean- I just want to know what you would do." She stares, waiting for him to explain himself. "Ah, just forget it," he says, waving his hand flippantly.

He turns his attention back to the PC's monitor and says nothing more. Still, she continues to observe him, her personal templates recording the slightest trace of an unknown reaction. A moment's research categorizes it as confusion and, after deliberating, she decides to pursue the topic. She reminds herself this is only because she has already explained the consequences of emotional attachment to him and it is in their best interests to elucidate the situation.

"Why?"

"Eh? Oh, well," he says slowly. "I just wanted to know how you would react. You know, we were talking about it that other day, how you don't act perfectly human."

"So this can be classified as an inquiry of how high my human template factor is."

"Well, I guess you could call it that-"

"I would have to decline the offer," she says. "Relationships are unnecessary."

"Unnecessary?" he frowns.

"In my case, yes. You organic life forms rely on relationships to prolong your existence through reproduction. I have no need for such feelings."

"So it wouldn't depend upon the circumstances?"

"Circumstances."

"Like, what if the guy really likes you?"

"My memory log states that I am thought to come across as 'apathetic' to the average human life form in this setting. 'Apathetic' tends to have a negative implication, limiting probability of potential interests."

"Well, maybe not to everyone…"

As his voice trails off, she finds herself speculating why he posed such a query to her at all; surely he doesn't wish to court her. Unbidden, the battle between herself and her former back-up Asakura replays from her hard drive, focusing on the time frame in the classroom afterwards. The verbal stream quotes him saying something about not being a glasses man, then quickly dismissing the matter when she asked for a definition. But she had stopped wearing the ocular enhancements anyway…

Asakura's question echoes in her mind, vivid with the memory of rapidly changing data in a restricted space and personal server error reports as she rewrote infringement programs as fast as she could. She knew that the question was to distract her from protecting him from Asakura's rogue attempts at his life, but she had slipped regardless, her steely guard faltering for a nanosecond. She thought it then and she thinks it now. Emotions are unnecessary.

Creating a bond beyond the one that already exists is not a wise decision. Romantically inclined attachment might ensue from her behalf, and his life would be in danger from any rogue factions that might decide to harness him as her weakness and get to the Integrated Data Entity. That would result in interruptions in her sector's research and jeopardize the subject's stability. The tentative stalemate between neighboring parties engaged in the subject's investigation might also be put at risk.

And she wouldn't let him die.

_It is my duty to keep the subject in as standard an environment as possible. Risking her data solidity for individual enjoyment is unadvisable,_ she thinks. _But he is free to make independent choices using his own judgment, as well…_

He wasn't just important to the subject and her mission, he held some personal significance to her as well. It was completely inexplicable and irrational and she could make no sense of it. It was alarming.

"If you wish," she begins softly. "I-"

"-and so that's why I asked you… wait, what?" She blinks and her mouth closes as quickly as it opened. His facial muscles contort slightly as he examines her. "Did you hear anything I said?" he asks. "You did look sorta spaced out."

"I did not hear the previous conversation you were having with me."

"So, you weren't listening."

"No."

He shrugs and runs his hand through his hair again. She notes that he seems to do this when exhibiting agitated behavioral patterns.

"I guess I'll have to explain it again," he sighs. "There's a guy in my homeroom who wants to ask you out. But he's a total jerk, and he told me to ask you on his behalf because he knows we hang out. I said no, of course, that would be weird. That's why I asked you what you would do, because he might decide to ask you himself and I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing."

He pauses to gauge her reaction. She reprocesses the information a third time to make sure she fully comprehends it all without any miscalculations.

"You do not wish to ask me out."

"Right."

"Then I shall decline his offer."

Her eyes return to her book, but she sees his smile. It is quiet for the rest of the afternoon.

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**"Kangaroo Notebook" is a Japanese novel about a man seeking treatment for a patch of radish sprouts growing on his legs. he is taken on a journey through various locations by a hospital bed with a mind of its own (thank you, Wikipedia); because Yuki once described a book she read as "unique" I thought it was apt to apply the same thing to this book.**

**reviews/constructive criticism? priceless.**


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